Gravitate
by Wings of a Wolf
Summary: Shuichi is finally going on a tour for his music. However, going on a tour means leaving Yuki behind. Will Yuki be able to admit how much he'll miss Shuichi before he leaves... perhaps for good? As canon as I could make it. COMPLETE!
1. Inertia

_Bring it down to the words of inertia_

_Gravity and touch give you meaning_

_Feel the weight of the moment_

_As you're brought together by the sun_

-Inertia-

**Inertia**

Upon entering Tokyo, there were three truths that should be known. The first was to watch out for flying stuffed toys: if you didn't catch them, their owner became mad and made you feel guilty for hurting "poor Kumagoro," never mind the bruise on your own forehead.

Two was to watch out for bad sushi-- that was just good advice, especially since two equally manic singers had decided to eat sushi from a truck stop. Both had been sick, both had bugged their respective bands with this illness, and both had thrown fits upon discovering they were too ill to sing.

The third was a simple thing, one that Shindou Shuichi wished he had known before getting involved. It was impossible to understand Yuki Eiri.

Shuichi had been with Yuki for two years now-- two rollercoaster years in which they had broken up no less than nine times, had wild make-up sex uncountable times, and Bad Luck had released one CD. Shuichi had also said that he loved Yuki every day for those two years, sometimes twice a day, so that had been seven hundred and thirty times _at least_ that Yuki hadn't said it back.

Shuichi couldn't deny that he wanted Yuki to love him. He couldn't deny that sometimes he wanted to borrow Kumagoro to hit the stubborn man over the head with. He couldn't deny that he had never felt so bad as when he was with Yuki. And yet... Yuki brought out both the best and the worst in him. Yuki could depress him like no one else, but Yuki was really the only one that he could strive for in that way.

Hiroshi flicked Shuichi on the head, hard. The singer yelped, falling back from his chair complete with windmilling arms. "Pay attention, Shuichi," he said, not unkindly. "Sakano's supposed to be telling us something important."

"But he's late," Shuichi argued. "Doesn't that give me leeway or something?"

His guitarist just rolled his eyes.

"Ugh," Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall. The youngest member of Bad Luck was looking decidedly disgruntled today, almost babyish features settled into a firm frown. "If Sakano has big news, it really seems like you should be paying as much attention as possible, Shindou," he reprimanded. "If you care about this music half as much as you say you do, then you should--"

Shuichi was no longer listening, caught up in daydreams of strawberry pocky. That soon lead to daydreams of strawberries, which lead to daydreams of feeding strawberries to Yuki, which led to Hiroshi flicking him against the forehead once more.

Suguru sighed. His reputation was going to be ruined. It was going to go down the drain and all that would be left would be strawberry-colored trails of sludge reminiscent to Shuichi's hair color. Maybe it was time to get out while everything was still looking good, before Shuichi managed to screw up one more time on television and destroy Bad Luck altogether.

The door opened, finally, and Sakano stepped through. A tall, thin Japanese man, he seemed to constantly be nervously working with his hands, whether pouring tea or wringing a handkerchief. He was quite good-looking, but his utter devotion to N-G's Seguchi Tohma left him with little time for devotions of the heart. It was probable that he would have been too flighty anyway. The woman who could have put up with his fainting spells would have had to be incredibly tough or a man.

Sakano had chosen to express his anxiety by restless pacing this time. He said nothing for the longest moment, striding back and forth across the room until Shuichi became dizzied from it, small birds floating above his head. Dazedly, he decided to name one Doris and the other Herbie.

"Spit it out already," Suguru ordered. "What would Tohma think to see you like this? It certainly isn't helping your band any for you to just pace around like that."

Sakano stopped in his tracks to turn an adoring smile to Suguru. "So much like Seguchi-san," he stated lovingly, clasping his hands like a Southern belle from one of those American westerns. Perhaps he and K had been watching them together, Shuichi pondered.

The producer sighed. "Seguchi-san wants Bad Luck to launch its Japanese tour," he stated. "He says that we aren't doing anyone any good by just doing those comedy shows." He teared up. "And I thought I was doing so well. Maybe I should let someone else be your producer. I can't do anything right. I..."

Hiroshi patted the quivering man on the back somewhat awkwardly. "Don't worry, Sakano. We think you're great."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "My cousin is right, of course, but you are a good producer, Sakano. I blame K for not doing better, not you."

The prickling on the back of his neck told Shuichi that someone was looming from behind him. He ducked instinctively as a volley of bullets shot over his head to pound the wall next to Suguru. Calmly, the keyboardist drank a sip of tea. _'Nerves of steel, that kid,'_ Shuichi thought admiringly.

"Who are you saying isn't a good manager!" K boomed. The tall American was trying to prop his sunglasses on his head by use of the end of the machine gun. Shuichi continued to stay low, hiding behind the couch. He certainly didn't care that he looked like a pink-haired mouse; he liked being alive more than he liked his image of coolness!

_'I guess that touring Japan means leaving Yuki...'_ Shuichi thought longingly while bullets and sharp remarks raced over his head. Sakano and Hiro were hiding under an overturned table now, using it as a shield. _'I wish he would come with me...'_

Yuki wouldn't, though, and Shuichi would miss him. Yuki wouldn't miss Shuichi, that much was a given. Sometimes, though... he wished that the writer would at least pretend to care.

--

"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi shouted, door banging open as he sped through on his way to Yuki's study. He was a small, blurry cyclone of pink hair and clothing that looked like it had come from the hippie era, tie-dyed and strange.

Yuki barely flinched anymore when Shuichi saw fit to speed into his room and bounce behind his chair like a hyper bunny. The blonde novelist looked over his shoulder, a bored expression on his face, to see Shuichi's violet-eyed face peering at him with barely-contained excitement. That was one thing about Shuichi. Shuichi wasn't particularly beautiful, eyes too big and face a bit too rounded, but no matter what he did he looked like the most gorgeous person Yuki had ever seen. It was incredible.

"Yuki, Bad Luck is going on its tour!" Shuichi yelled, still bouncing.

"I'm right here, you idiot," Yuki complained. "You don't have to yell. Did you really have to burst in here just to tell me that you're going on tour?"

Shuichi wilted, looking away. "Sorry," he murmured softly. "We're leaving in a couple of days. Tohma didn't want Sakano to get to worked-up so he told us at the last minute. We're gonna be gone for a few months." Five, to be exact. Maybe six if the usual delays happened.

Yuki was back to staring at his computer screen. "So what? Call me out when you want dinner."

The singer paused for a moment, hovering over Yuki's chair. He wanted a hello kiss, he wanted an offer to come with him. He wanted _something_.

He wasn't going to get that something from Yuki. He should know that by now. He couldn't help the want for it, though. He probably would want it for however long Yuki chose to put up with him. He couldn't cry, though, couldn't even take the time to show how he felt. Yuki hated it when he cried. Yuki wanted him to be happy. So he had to be.

"All right," he chirped. "I have to call Maiko anyway!"

As he went out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him, he didn't notice that Yuki hadn't typed anything ever since Shuichi had said he would be leaving. Fingers resting on the keys, Yuki stared at the screen.

How many months were a few months? How long would Shuichi be gone?

Yuki saved the document and closed it, still staring at the screen with dead brown eyes that were so light a color they appeared golden. Shuichi was going to leave? What was Yuki supposed to do in the meantime? What was supposed to happen while he waited for Shuichi to come back?

How was he supposed to live if Shuichi got hurt while he was gone?

Yuki stood and walked away from the computer. He could bribe Maiko off the phone by telling her he'd autograph one of his books for her. Right now, he needed to touch Shuichi, to affirm that he was still here and wasn't going to be leaving for a while yet. Right now, he needed Shuichi more than she did.

He smirked. He could almost taste the strawberry on his tongue.

--

_Inertia is defined as the resistance of an object to movement._

_Inertia is the first chapter of a two or three part fic called Gravitate. It probably won't be more than that, but it depends on how the plot goes. It's going to be as canon as I can make it, which makes it kind of fun. The song Inertia that I put a clip of at the beginning belongs to me. Please review, because the plot bunnies bounce once I get those lovely little messages you send me._

_On another note, I will be changing my pen name/screen name/whatever, so the next chapter will be under Wings of a Wolf._


	2. Gravity

_Bring it down to the words of inertia_

_Gravity and touch give you meaning_

_Feel the weight of the moment_

_As you're brought together by the sun_

Inertia

--

**Gravity**

Shuichi could feel Yuki's breath against the back of his neck, warm and even, caressing his skin like a soft touch. It wasn't that often that Yuki slept in the same bed as him. Shuichi supposed it denoted some kind of trust that Yuki wasn't willing to give him.

It hurt to be trusted so little, but at least it wasn't too often that Yuki actually kicked him out. Just once or twice a week. Yuki always seemed to be running late on some deadline or other, generally resulting in him staying up all or most of the night clacking away at his keyboard. So staying in bed really wasn't even that much of an issue.

It was nice, though. Nice to be held in Yuki's arms like he was fragile instead of some kind of ball that just kept bouncing back. He would never stop bouncing back from whatever Yuki put him through-- he wasn't sure if he could. That didn't mean that he didn't feel the pain associated with it, though. Maybe he was just annoying Yuki by being with him, but sometimes it really seemed like Yuki wanted him here.

Shuichi leaned back in his lover's arms and closed his eyes against his worry. He couldn't keep wondering like this. It would kill him, and too often he was wrong to begin with.

Yuki had actually bothered to interrupt him on the phone with Maiko for sex. Did that mean something, or was it just Yuki being horny? Yuki wasn't the kind to actively seek something like that, since it usually tended to sidle up to him and say "pretty please."

He was warm, safe, and he had Yuki. It was time to stop doubting and go to bed.

Eventually, his own breathing turned even and he slid into sleep. He was going to have an eventful day tomorrow.

--

Shuichi was packing. As a rule, he disliked packing. It generally meant that Yuki had tried to leave again and that Shuichi had to chase after him. The hopping up and down on an overstuffed suitcase was kind of fun, but he could go without.

This time, he wasn't packing to go after Yuki. Tomorrow he'd be heading out for the tour. "Yeah!" he shouted into the empty room, bouncing on top of the suitcase. "Fame! Glory! Death To Smoochy!" He paused at the last one. "I knew I shouldn't have watched Yuki's stupid American movies." Then he laughed and continued to squeeze the suitcase closed.

Even more people would be avid Bad Luck fans after this tour. Many people noted how it was impossible to hear the band and not like them, and some people would probably go to the concerts just for something to do. CD sales would go through the roof.

Shuichi's smile was manic as he pulled his stuff off the bed to rest against the floor. This was the greatest opportunity he'd had so far to spread his love of music to everyone else. He'd make Bad Luck fans if he had to buy his CD himself and give it to 'em for free.

"Will you stop that cackling?" Yuki said irritably, leaning against the doorframe with a scowl set on his impressive face. His white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a good deal of pale golden flesh.

Shuichi's mouth went dry with desire. _'Why does he have to go around nearly shirtless!'_ he thought frantically, full-well knowing his eyes were tracing a rampant path across Yuki's chest. Yuki's eyes were on him all too knowingly, making him want to jump on him and scream "MINE!" at the top of his lungs.

He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away from Yuki's tempting body. Yuki had a deadline. He always had a deadline. Maybe he really wasn't always that busy. Maybe it was just another obstacle between them, but Shuichi knew the consequences if he bothered Yuki too much while he had a deadline. Yuki probably wouldn't even be able to see him off.

Shuichi was so distracted by fiddling with the zipper of one of his bags that he didn't notice Yuki crossing the room closer to him. The novelist jerked his chin up and Shuichi squeaked. He didn't have time to think as Yuki's mouth covered his, hot and almost bruising in force, burning into him like the desire filled his body and he clung to his lover.

Nothing. Nothing else mattered. Even if this was all he had, it would have to be enough. Because he couldn't live without this, as small a thing as it was.

Shuichi's back hit the bed and he gasped as he felt the soft brush of Yuki's lips against his throat, like a warning before he bit down lightly to mark the skin.

Maybe Yuki couldn't offer anything but this anymore. Maybe there was nothing left but this, whatever it was, between the two of them. Maybe there was nothing left but sex and affection and wanting. Shuichi would take whatever it was that Yuki had to offer because it was Yuki's and he wanted everything, whatever it was that Yuki would give him.

He felt his shirt be pulled off over his head, Yuki's mouth on his once more as soon as it was off. It was like he was trying to imprint himself on Shuichi, as deep as he could go. His tongue thrust into Shuichi's as far as it was possible as if to stake a claim into an area that had been practically untouched since Yuki.

It was different right now, somehow. He didn't know what was different, but it was. Yuki hadn't waited for Shuichi to make the first move, to touch him in some way or indicate how what he wanted. He almost always, if not always, did that. He waited and most of the time Shuichi appreciated it, especially after Taki and his goons.

He let himself fade into the oblivion of touch and heat. There was only one thing he wanted more, but this was all he had.

--

"I wanna _goooo_," Shuichi whined at his bandmates as he waited. "Why does the plane have to be late. I even got here early? This isn't fair!"

"Not everything is fair, Shuichi," Suguru admonished. "Can't you just be a little more patient? This is our big chance, though there's no doubt that you'll screw it up somehow, considering that you have the _strangest_ tendency to do that."

Shuichi effortlessly tuned out Suguru's sarcastic voice and decided to pay attention to the many people around him. A mother was trying to get her squirming son to sit in his seat, wiping at the smudge of dirt on his cheek. A girl clung to who looked to be her boyfriend, arms fastened around his neck as she buried her face against his shoulder. A harried American woman was trying to keep her two blonde little girls in line while her husband paid more attention to the TV showing sports.

"Shuichi, we can board now," Hiroshi said for what had to be the fifteenth time, rapping his knuckles gently against Shuichi's skull. "You in there? Maybe you can't sit. Did Yuki screw you too hard?"

Shuichi turned bright red. "Hiro!" he screeched, elbowing the guitarist as hard as he could. "You'd think that you'd prefer not to know!"

"I guess that means yes."

"Hiro!"

K sighed as he watched his band fight on their way to board the plane. He, of course, would be seeing if he could fly on the top so he could check for potential snipers. Sakano would be inside, but knocked out, as he was a nervous flyer. Very nervous. K had spotted him hyperventilating in the corner just thinking about him, but no one thought twice about it since it was him. The man really needed some good pills, though upon him suggesting it, Sakano had started babbling about rude Americans.

Shuichi was getting quieter. K was paid to notice the little things about his band. Shuichi may not be silent right now, busy trying to bash his friend's head in and attracting the attention of the more normal Japanese men and women, but seemed quieter all around. That meant that he was depressed. That meant K was probably going to have to go shoot at Yuki.

A lazy smile curled on his lips. "Mm... moving target..."

"Did you say something?" Sakano said, wiping his brow with an already sweat-soaked handkerchief. He soon got out his waterbottle so he could pop a couple of pills.

K smirked. "Oh, nothing. Nothing..."

He was resisting the urge to start cackling in what he hoped was an entirely Japanese way. This country was so insane. They were lucky to have _him_ around to loosen them up and shoot a few holes in their houses. And them, of course. Couldn't be American without a bloodbath.

--

Yuki stared at the door with a cigarette in one hand and a shot glass in the other. It was probably pointless to be looking. It was the same door it had been before-- wooden, large, and with a big brass handle-- but the difference that remained now was that Shuichi had gone through it and he was going to be gone for a while.

_'The brat probably won't even come back,'_ he thought with a scowl, grinding his cigarette out aggressively. _'Why would he want to?'_

He wasn't stupid enough to think that something as ill-defined as love existed. He could write about it because it was like a fairy tale-- easy, stupid, and ultimately unreal. Like that Chinese artist or whatever had said, demons were easier to draw than dogs. It was easier to write about something like love because it didn't really exist. That was why the American romance novels were so stupid and trashy. Anyone could write them.

Shuichi seemed to think that he loved Yuki, though. He was stupidly devoted, he kept coming back like a dog to its master no matter what. Was love just sheer stupidity?

Yuki snorted and finished off his shot. If love was stupidity than Shuichi no doubt embodied love. Or was it the love that made him stupid?

He staggered back over to his desk and slammed the glass down. At least now he could smoke without worry. K had pointed a gun at his head and started shooting when he had learned that Yuki smoked around his precious singer. There had been talk of secondhand smoke and singing lungs and so on, but Yuki didn't pay much attention to words when bullets were flying overhead. Not many did. Once Shuichi had realized what was happening (and it had taken quite a while despite the bullets) he had started off on K despite the machine gun.

Yuki felt a smile begin to curve on his lips at the memory. Shuichi had clung to him the entire time, saying that he would use his body as a shield so that not one single hair on "his precious Yuki's" head would be harmed.

Yuki's chest ached and he rubbed it with a frown. He didn't miss the brat. He didn't.

--

_Hey all! Thanks for all of the pretty reviews; I loved each and every one and am not ashamed of begging you for more. Do people think I should up the rating? By the way, does anyone know where I could post artwork? I do Gravi, Gundam Wing, and Weiß Kreuz, mostly. I also do original stuff._

_Once again, the song Inertia belongs to me. Please review!_


	3. Weight

_Bring it down to the words of inertia_

_Gravity and touch give you meaning_

_Feel the weight of the moment_

_As you're brought together by the sun_

Inertia

--

**Weight**

Sakuma Ryuichi was at his most happy. He was back from an acting job in America to sing with his favorite lookalike, Shuichi. Noriko wasn't being mean and hitting him for no reason other than him accidentally turning her hair red. So everything was going pretty good for him.

Except Shuichi was _mopey_. That was seriously putting a cramp in his "party all day and night with Shuichi" plan. He took a moment to wonder how an idea could get a cramp, but pushed it aside quite firmly to do with the matter at hand: cheering Shuichi up.

"Shuichi-kun," he whined. "Aren't you glad that I came back so I could be your guest star again?"

Shuichi smiled at him, but his violet eyes were tired. "Of course I am, Ryuichi," he assured. Ryuichi frowned at the sadness in his eyes and started to pout.

Shuichi took one look at his favorite idol's face and blanched. _'Oh no. I didn't mean to make Ryuichi unhappy. Moping sure isn't helping anyone! Gotta stay positive!'_

"I'm so glad you're here! We can get matching Kumogaro costumes and trapse around that amusement park and go on rollercoasters until we puke!" he enthused.

Ryuichi grinned, but shot him a heavy look under considering eyes. Sure, Shuichi was faking, but if he faked long enough there was a good chance it would actually become real. "Cool!" the dark-haired singer said, grinning. "This is gonna be fun! Fun is always happening around Ryuichi, Shuichi, and Kumogaro!"

The two clasped hands to conspire and ducked into a corner to discuss their plans. Hiro, looking on, heaved a sigh. Suguru just covered his face with one hand. This trip was going to be murder on his nerves, he just knew it.

--

Tatsuha opened his brother's door a crack so that he could slip inside. His annual bi-weekly visit was coming up and he had decided that his brother, lacking anyone else at the moment, needed company. It was his job to make sure that Yuki didn't wallow, after all.

"What are you doing here?" Yuki snapped, glaring at him out of golden eyes. Tatsuha rolled his eyes as he set his back down and continued the rest of the way into the apartment.

"What do you think I'm doing here? I'm visiting my beloved older brother." He paused to walk over to the refrigerator. "Do you have anything _other_ that beer? Not that I'm complaining, or anything."

While Yuki grumbled, Tatsuha looked around the apartment. There were clothes everywhere, ashes from a cigarette layering almost every surface. One of Shuichi's hats was perched jauntily on the top of a chair, and about two dozen beer bottles sat beside the couch. "Oh gods save us, it's World War III. What did you _do_?"

Yuki glared at him. Tatsuha ignored it and sprawled out in a chair, waiting for the answer.

"I have writers' block."

Tatsuha gaped. Yuki rarely ever got writers' block. Sometimes he just didn't feel like writing, but he never actually didn't know what to do next. If he hit a snag, he thought it through. If he wondered what somebody was going to do next, he had sex with someone until he was in a better frame of mind to work it out. But Yuki never, _never_ got writers' block.

Tatsuha decided that the fish face was not a good look for him and shut his mouth. "Aw, do you miss Shuichi?" he babytalked, vaulting forward to pinch Yuki's cheek.

Yuki batted him off. "Die," he ordered coldly. Tatsuha, deciding this was his brother's way of saying that he loved him, brushed it aside.

"If I listened to you every time you said that, I would be fifty thousand feet under."

"And the world would be a better place," Yuki deadpanned.

Tatsuha sighed. "Just my luck, having an ass for a brother." He raked his black hair out of his eyes. "Well, did you try your usual remedies. Sex, beer, walking in the park, one of your screaming American bands on loud?"

The golden-haired novelist scowled and took another drag of his cigarette. "Shuichi's not here, yes, yes, and the neighbors complained last time."

"The fact that Shuichi's not here never bothered you much before," Tatsuha pointed out, grinning slightly. He got another of Yuki's dark looks for that comment.

"Shut up. I found that American single of Ryuichi's you wanted..." Yuki tempted.

Tatsuha drooled, holding out his hands. "Oh my darling Ryuichi. One day you will be mine. Until then, I shall subsist on images of you and plain rice, for I need no substance other than your glory. Ryuichi, you are my god. Every time I hold a funeral, I am really praying to you."

Yuki slapped the CD in his brother's hands and rolled his eyes. All those people that Tatsuha had sent off really were going to hell, then. Ryuichi wasn't exactly the epitome of good behavior on the best of days. The making out on stage with Tohma hadn't even been the worst of it. Sometimes, Yuki wondered why Mika had gone through with the marriage when her husband had spent most of his youth kissing other men.

He headed over to the computer to try again. He just couldn't think of what he wanted to do. Usually he managed to make a wonderfully heart-wrenching piece of art where the guy proved true to male nature and ruined the girl's life. Right now, all that he was coming up with something along the lines of "and then the two fucked like bunnies." That wasn't exactly "art."

Tatsuha's voice soon started singing out the lyrics to Ryuichi's song and Yuki plugged his ears, still staring at the screen. The words sat there, waiting. He sat there, waiting. Nothing was happening.

He swirled around in his chair and looked around the apartment. Plain, stylish, and tasteful underneath all of the junk. Usually there were about half a dozen things of Shuichi's scattered around, his equipment set up in the corner. Even if he didn't compose the music anymore, he still liked to play around.

The song faded out and Tatsuha came back into the room, leaning in the doorway. "You're not getting anything done anyway. Why don't you just go see him?" Yuki frowned at him and Tatsuha grinned. "Hey, just a suggestion." He headed back to the CD player and, soon enough, No Style was blaring out of the speakers.

Yuki decided firmly that it was time to kill Tatsuha. He would be doing the world a favor.

--

"Shuichi-kun!"

"Bad Luck, Bad Luck, Bad Luck!"

Screaming fans always made Shuichi feel so welcome. It was a wonderful thing, screaming fans. On stage, at least. Offstage they had the tendency to mow him over in their desperation to get to him. More than once he'd had a fan's bootprint on his forehead. Then there had been that time with the high heels...

Hiro held one of the turned-off microphones up to Shuichi and said announcer-like, "You have performed wonderfully and the fans only want more. How do you feel?"

Shuichi grabbed it playfully. "I'd have to say that I feel like a million bucks," he stated cheerfully. "I'm here with my favorite guitarist, the boy-band cute keyboardist, my panicking producer, and my gun-toting manager. Life couldn't be better. How about you, Hiro? How's it feel to have your face associated with one as gorgeous as mine?"

Hiroshi rolled his eyes and knocked the microphone back into the case. "Keep dreaming, brat," he informed his friend.

Shuichi just grinned.

It was... odd, though. To be away from Yuki for more than a few days. He was surprised that he hadn't had a heart attack yet from all the worrying. What would Yuki do if he wasn't around to catch him when he passed out? He had this habit of breaking marble tables with his hard head-- the last time had resulted in a concussion and Tohma screaming at Shuichi. It hadn't been pretty.

Then had been Mika, screaming at Shuichi. Then had been Tatsuha, screaming at Shuichi. And then...

It just hadn't been pretty. Nothing more should be said.

Shuichi smiled slightly at the memory, amused by it now though he had been frightened at the time. _'Yuki...'_ He was quiet the rest of the way back to the hotel, not noticing Hiro's fond smile at him as he shook his head. Shuichi was one-of-a-kind and Yuki didn't deserve him.

And if this separation wasn't killing Yuki as totally as it was killing Shuichi, Hiro and him were going to have words.

--

_I want to take a moment to discuss the chapter titles. Inertia is a state of motionlessness. With Gravity, I'm thinking along the lines of each object having their own inner gravity and pulling to each other. Like the apple pulls to the earth as the earth pulls to the apple. Or in this case, Shuichi and Yuki. Weight sort of... determines how fast the apple (or Yuki) falls. And next chapter's name (Brought Together) is sort of self-explanatory._

_Thank Ryuuko (Ryuichiincarnate) for the speediness of this chapter because Ryuuko is sadly going to be trapped in Alaska for two months and computerless. And feel free to review. I would, in fact, appreciate it._


	4. Brought Together

_Bring it down to the words of inertia_

_Gravity and touch give you meaning_

_Feel the weight of the moment_

_As you're brought together by the sun_

_-Inertia-_

--

**Brought Together**

Shuichi liked seeing a smile on the face of the people he sung to. He liked seeing some faces just in it for the fun of it, partying their hearts out and laughing with their friends. He also liked to see those rare souls who enjoyed a song completely, as if trying to absorb it into their skin until they could understand every naunce of it.

Honestly, he got along better with the first in his better moods, but when he was being depressed and introspective, usually after a fight with Yuki, he knew that he understood the latter group the best. That love of music was what had made him learn to begin with. That love of music had sparked his initial obsession with Nittle Grasper. That love was what had made him try to understand them even the slightest little bit.

"Are you thinking about Yuki again," Hiro said, voice somewhat exasperated. "You've got a loopy look on your face."

Shuichi glared at him, sticking out his tongue. "You're mean, Hiro. I don't always think about Yuki!" _'Just most of the time.'_ Hiro didn't need to hear that last bit, though. Hiro already thought that he knew it well enough.

"Well, we have to pack up. Our plane leaves in just a couple of minutes," Shuichi's best friend said, blinking at him after a moment of consideration. Sometimes even _he_ couldn't understand Shuichi. Since he was the only one besides Maiko that did even the slightest little bit, that was probably really bad, considering Shuichi and Yuki's twisted little love nest.

"Snap out of it," Hiro said again in exasperation, shaking the pink-haired singer's shoulder. Shuichi was drooling slightly. Hiro paused for a moment, watching Shuichi's eyes focus. "I don't want to know, do I?"

Shuichi flushed bright read. "It's your fault! You mentioned Yuki!"

The images of Shuichi and Yuki in lewd postions began to flash before Hiro's eyes. "I told you not to say anything!" the guitarist groaned, putting a hand over his eyes. Not that the images were completely distasteful, but it was _Shuichi_.

Shuichi straightened up his bags a bit more, stuffing shirts in this way and that. He just _missed Yuki_. It was like he was some kind of dependent girl, the way he carried on. It was just getting harder. It had just been a week already and it felt like he was going to start screaming out "YUUUUUUKI!" at random intervals, probably during an interview, just to be declared insane and be able to see Yuki.

He couldn't be depressed like this. It was making Hiro worry way too much. Hiro couldn't be worrying about him, not when things were going so well. Shuichi wanted Hiro to be able to enjoy this, their first tour.

It was just that Yuki wasn't here to see him triumph. Did Yuki even care that he wasn't there anymore? He never seemed to even mind when Shuichi was gone, so it certainly didn't seem like it, but Shuichi just hurt so much when he wasn't around.

"Shuichi?"

Shuichi grinned up at Hiro and zippered the bag shut with an air of finality. If Yuki didn't care, really didn't care, should he? He couldn't let this bother him now. He just needed to concentrate on Hiro and Bad Luck and the fans.

"What are you standing around for? We have a plane to catch! People to make fall in love with us! Kingdoms to overthrow! Rise, young Arthur, for you are the King!"

Hiro sighed softly. It figured that the one time that Shuichi had bothered listening in his English Literature class he would remember it enough to come back and bite Hiro in the butt with it. He never listened that well in Japanese class!

"Seize the day! C'est la vie!"

Who did Shuichi think he was fooling? Hiro was willing to play along for now, though. Shuichi wasn't going to tell him anything if he was still denying it.

"Okay, let's go."

--

Tatsuha was firm in his belief that his brother was pathetic. Yuki was starting to look wearied, black ringing his eyes from lack of sleep so that he almost looked bruised. His blonde hair was starting to look stringy and his smell wasn't a particularly wonderful one.

Tatsuha wrinkled his nose. Most _definitely_ not a good smell.

"You know, just because Shuichi isn't here isn't any excuse to give up showering," Tatsuha stated irritably.

"You're still here?" Yuki snapped back. Tatsuha began to make obscene gestures at Yuki's turned back. "There's a mirror behind you, idiot."

Okay, that _so_ wasn't fair. Who had put a mirror there? Probably one of Yuki's bimbo designer 'friends' who had done the job for free in hopes of sleeping with him. She had probably gotten what she wanted, too.

"If this is what it's like when you haven't written anything for a week, I'm never coming here again when Shuichi isn't here. _Go see him_. Hell, go on tour with him."

"I don't miss Shuichi," Yuki snarled for what had to be the fiftieth. Why did everyone keep saying that? He was just having a very, very bad week, most likely because he wasn't getting laid. "I'll just go out and pick up a girl or something."

Tatsuha snorted at him. "Then why didn't you do that before?"

Yuki threw a paperweight at him.

--

Shuichi was a bit high at the moment on the success of the latest concert. On top of that, they were going to get to tour Sapporo and would hopefully be able to get drunk. Japan was still reeling from the last time that Shuichi and Ryuichi had gotten Drunk with a capital D. Sakano would probably call Sapporo's emergency service, just to be safe.

"Shuichi," Sakano stuttered through heavy breathing, wiping sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. "You have a visitor." He pointed waveringly to the left, obviously wearied by the little stunt Shuichi had pulled with the pie and the ramen. Let's not mention that, though. Let's talk about something else. How about the weather?

_'Did Maiko and my parents actually make it?'_ Shuichi wondered, blinking large violet eyes. _'I thought they said that they wouldn't be able to make it to Sapporo because of the eel and the family dinner and not wanting me to be around when they tried to cook?'_

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him once he opened the door. It was Yuki, in his six foot, golden-haired, amber-eyed glory.

"I knew that I shouldn't have eaten that funny fish," Shuichi began to mutter in front of Yuki's gaze, starting to rub his eyes frantically. "Hiro said, 'don't eat that fish, Shuichi', but did I listen? No! I had to try the funny fish. Now I'm hallucinating and seeing a Yuki in front of me. Not that Yuki's a bad thing to see, but you don't want to be seeing him here when he's in Tokyo. That would be bad."

Yuki raised a golden eyebrow. Shuichi was... babbling. It was a bit amusing and a bit pathetic all at once.

"Idiot," he said affectionately, although Shuichi wouldn't have heard the affection in the insult if he had been hit over the head with it. "If you ate bad fish, maybe I don't want to be here. You'll probably be sick all night and if you're sick _I_ certainly won't have a use for you."

Shuichi stared at him wonderingly before launching himself at him. "Yuuuuuuukiiiiiiiiii!" he squealed. "No hallucination would call me an idiot! I missed you! You didn't ever answer when I tried to call and you weren't here and--"

Yuki cut off the flow of words by grabbing Shuichi's chin and pulling the singer's lips to his. "Do you ever shut up?" he said irritably once he broke away. Shuichi's eyes watered and Yuki sighed. He didn't understand Shuichi any better than Shuichi understood him. He didn't understand how they could have ended up together when they misinterpreted each other so badly. He told Shuichi to leave because he was being loud and Yuki had a deadline. Shuichi thought that those words meant for good. Shuichi was always dramatic, always _cried_, and all that made Yuki want to do was run. He hated when people cried; he had done too much of it himself for too many years because of the first Yuki.

"Come on," Yuki ordered abruptly, pulling on Shuichi's hand and heading towards the door on his left that lead to an alley outside. Shuichi squeaked.

--

When Yuki finally stopped dragging Shuichi after him, it was on a bridge. He looked down at the river beneath, raking a hand back through his blonde hair. Shuichi looked at him worriedly. He didn't know what was wrong with Yuki. _Shuichi_ couldn't have done something already... could he?

"What did I do, Yuki?" he asked, concerned. "Whatever I did, I promise I'll try better next time. I'm really, really sorry...!"

Yuki blinked, looking at him with surprise. "You didn't do anything, idiot. What made you think that you did something?"

"But you're so _quiet,_ and you showed up here when you have a deadline, and..." Shuichi trailed off, looking at the ground.

"What-- I'm not allowed to be quiet?" Yuki asked sarcastically. Shuichi stayed silent as his eyes began to water again, angering him as he furiously tried to scrub them away. Yuki hated when he cried. Yuki sighed. He wasn't doing this very well. "I have writer's block," he announced.

Shuichi looked at him, eyes wide. "But you never have writer's block, Yuki! It's like you're some kind of writing machine! Well, writing and..." He blushed.

Yuki smirked. "Apparently I've gotten used to your incessant whining enough to make it throw me off when you're not there. I was thinking about getting a white noise machine, but decided that the real thing would probably make it easier. I brought a laptop so I can go on tour with you."

Did this mean that Yuki really cared? That he really loved Shuichi? He didn't want to get his hopes up again for the thousandth time only to realize that he had mistaken the words-- again-- and that Yuki had meant something else entirely. Sometimes it seemed as if he and Yuki were on entirely different wavelengths. They never seemed to understand a word that came out of the other's mouth.

Yuki was _trying_, or at least, Shuichi thought so. He could never be sure, though. He never had any proof, any sign to keep hoping.

"Yuki..." he whispered, staring up at Yuki's warm golden brown eyes.

"Eiri," Yuki corrected, discomforted by Shuichi tamed gaze. There was something in there, some hopelessness that he had never seen before and never wanted to see again. Shuichi wasn't meant to be so listless and sad.

Shuichi blinked. "Eiri...?" Then he smiled, smaller than his usual wide grins and cheeful smirks.

It wasn't a declaration of love, but maybe it was a beginning of something Shuichi could begin to work for. He wanted Yuki to be able to love him as much as Shuichi loved him.

He wanted to touch Yuki. He wanted to kiss him, but Yuki hated the way that Shuichi pulled on him constantly and tried to cling to him.

And Yuki was starting to have a niggling fear that he had broken something inside Shuichi that he should have tried harder to make happy. So Yuki held out his hand and Shuichi launched forward, somehow managing to fall forward onto Yuki's soft lips until...

Shuichi had never once initiated a kiss. Never.

Yuki put a hand behind Shuichi's head and guided him closer, hating himself for giving Shuichi this much control but not wanting to push him away when that infinitely fragile look had appeared in his eyes only minutes before.

The look of an animal, wounded too many times by his master, but unwilling to stay away because he knew who fed him. The look of a person who had seen too many hopes crushed and been told by too many people that he and the one he loved were bad for each other.

Someone who knew little to nothing about his lover but wanted everything he was all the same.

And it _scared_ Yuki. It terrified him beyond any doubt and all sanity. He had to let Shuichi kiss him, though, and not just for Shuichi. It was for him, because he never wanted to see himself reflected in that shattered look.

It wasn't an end. It wasn't even a beginning. But maybe it could be the start.

Shuichi drew back and laughed slightly under his breath. "Yuki... you need a shower."

Yuki laughed.

--

_Sorry this took a while, but it was an important chapter and I didn't want to rush it. Then wouldn't let me upload for FOREVER. I'm not sure whether I want to continue past this chapter, but I didn't want to finalize it yet. Have any thoughts? Review about it so I know whether to continue. It'll be a while, though, since I want to enter the Writers of the Future contest. Don't worry, though. I'll be using my own writing style and not channeling Maki Murakami. Heh!_


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